


Flicker

by Luv_Haze



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy hates doorbells, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Steve Harrington Tries, They Are Not Friends, body switching, he really does, hijinks ensue, hopefully fun and hot, no season 3 stuff, set right after season 2, they swear a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 15:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22398532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luv_Haze/pseuds/Luv_Haze
Summary: Steve scrambled out of his bed as soon as he finished.  Whatever had just happened was bad.  Very, very bad.  He had been in his body—spending time alone, as one will do—then suddenly he’d been standing with weights in his hands and a half burned cigarette between his lips before he’d been slammed back into his own body.*A Billy/Steve body switching fic where they flicker back and forth and never know when it's going to hit again or how long it'll last.  Navigating it together would be so much easier if Billy wasn't always distracted by how sensitive Steve's body was compared to his own.  And dead set on making sure Steve knew it.  Set right after Season 2, no Season 3 stuff in this one.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 10
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this long before Season 3 was released and found it on my computer so I thought I'd dust it off, post it and use it to get back into writing Billy/Steve so I can finish Bound for everyone! :)

Billy pulled the barbell to his chest, counting out loud around the lit cigarette in his mouth. He liked to multi-task, got more shit done that way.

“Seven…” his arms moved down, the strain on his biceps welcomed yet equally loathed. No pain, no gain, right? And Billy liked gain. 

“Eight…” he huffed a bit, his lips threatening to lose their grip on the cigarette. He adjusted his stance and slid the butt of it further into his mouth for safety. He wasn’t about to stop during reps to put that shit down.

He inhaled. His arms moved down again, biceps relaxing and then he was suddenly somewhere else, hand wrapped around his cock, stroking at it and shit that felt good, really good, but what?

Billy blinked, looking down at the cock in his hand. Not his cock. Not his hand. He wasn’t even standing anymore, he was propped up on pillow, lying on a bed.

He glanced up. Not his room. A room he’d never even seen before. Was that…plaid wallpaper?

And then before he could utter a sound, before he could let go of the cock or process what happened, Billy’s arms were straining with the barbell again. Shit, it had slipped lower than usual during the last rep and he’d almost dropped it.

He hoisted it back onto the stand with a loud clink, anything to get it out of his sweaty grip. “What the…” Billy said out loud, realizing his mouth was empty. “Fuck!”

He looked down, seeing the cigarette burning away on the floor. He had _never_ dropped one out of his mouth. Shit, Neil would have his hide. Billy snatched it up, wincing as his fingers grazed the lit end and scrubbed at the floor with his tennis shoe. Fuck, thank god it hadn’t left a mark. 

He snuffed it out in the ashtray and then sank into the couch, mind racing with confusion.

He fumbled for another smoke, fucking why not, and started organizing his thoughts.

He felt fine. Nothing seemed off. He didn’t feel dizzy or disoriented. He’d never done acid so it wasn’t one of those flashback things people spoke about like they’d lived through a war to tell about it. Hell, he hated the hard stuff, stayed away from all that crap. He liked to get high or drunk from time to time but he wasn’t about to shoot himself up or get addicted to something he’d have to sell his damn body for to afford.

It was the first Monday morning of Christmas break, he was sober, had gotten plenty of sleep, hadn’t even used his alarm to get up. Neil was at work, Susan and Max were out grocery shopping for flour and shit, they were hell bent on making cookies for her new little nerd gang.

Billy ran his hand down his face and sighed. Whatever it was, it had been fast, just a flicker really. Might’ve even just been his imagination. Stranger things had happened, but it seemed so real. Like when you woke up from a dream and swore it had felt real at the time, but clearly it was all in your head.

The idea of a dream made sense. He’d had dreams memories come barreling back to him during the day before, long after he’d woken up and forgotten about them. Little fragments of them would surface for a moment then drift away again. Maybe this was just the most vivid dream fragment he’d ever had, because there’s no way he dozed off mid rep. 

Yeah, that did make sense, sort of. But he isn’t sure he’s ever been someone other than himself in his dreams, but whoever he’d been in this one—apparently some guy with a pretty decent cock—he’d probably remembered it so strongly because it had felt really good. Beyond good, actually, as he’d been on the edge of the promise of an incredible orgasm. 

A dream flash also explained how he’d lost his bearings and let the cigarette fall from his mouth. How the barbell had slipped as if he couldn’t actually hold its weight. The sensory overload of the dream memory had hijacked his brain for a second.

Shit, though. It _still_ felt really good, like a buzz of arousal lingering over his dick. Adjusting himself in his shorts, Billy licked his lower lip and debated delaying his lifting for a bit. He had the house to himself after all, might as well seize the day.

Standing up, he stretched his arms over his head to loosen up his back then headed to his bedroom, already half mast. Yeah, Christmas break was off to a good start. 

*

Steve scrambled out of his bed as soon as he finished wiping himself off with a tissue. Whatever had just happened was bad. Very, very bad. He had been in his body—happily jerking off, as one will do—then suddenly he’d been standing with weights in his hands and a fucking half burned cigarette between his lips before he’d been slammed back into his own body on the precipice of a really killer orgasm. 

And boy had he come. Hard. Gushed all over himself like he hadn’t been coming twice a day for the last few days as he settled into his Christmas break routine of giving his dick all the holiday spirit it deserved and missed out on when he was trudging through school.

His body might have enjoyed whatever the fuck had happened, but Christ, his mind was reeling. What if this was Upside Down bad? Or Hawkins’ Lab bad? 

His hands shook as he reached for a clean pair of boxers. He’d have to call Hopper. Or Joyce. Fuck, no way, he’d start with Hopper. You know, in case he needed to explain what he’d been _doing_ when it happened, not that Joyce wouldn’t understand, she would, but the last thing he needed was Joyce Byers knowing he’d had been jerking off when he jumped into someone else’s body for a second.

Steve licked his lips, still able to taste the nicotine that he knew wasn’t really there. 

Shit, wait. If Steve had jumped into someone else’s body, was there a chance that person had switched with him and jumped into his body too? While he was jerking off?

Steve groaned and shut his eyes. That guy had been lifting weights…if he’d had his hand around Steve’s dick for a second…please God, no, no, no. 

At least it had been with another guy and not a girl. But then, Steve didn’t know enough to draw any definitive conclusions. He didn’t know _what_ had happened, didn’t know _why_ it happened, was totally clueless on _who_ it happened with or if they even had any conscious experience of the switch. 

Or maybe it was just him that felt it and they hadn’t even noticed. Yeah, like…they didn’t go anywhere at all and Steve had just visited their body for a split second but they had stayed put and…

Fuck. Either way, Steve needed help and hoped Hopper didn’t ask too many prying questions as he picked up the phone and steeled himself to make the call.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Billy switch again, but this time, it's for longer than a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case peeing bothers anyone, heads up, there's peeing in this chapter.

_Ding._

That brilliant smile held his attention, it always had his attention. And it was right there, smiling _at_ him for once as they sat in the warm, dry sand. Billy loved the beach.

_Ding._

And he could hear the seagulls as they watched the sun set on the horizon. And they were holding hands. Yes! Finally!

_Ding._

And there was…was that a fucking microwave dinging somewhere? Or an alarm clock? Billy looked around for the invasive sound, but only saw the ocean in front of him, sand sprawling on either side and there was a pier up the way and that smile…they were still holding hands.

_Ding-dong!_

Billy groaned. His dream started to snake away from him as the sound grew louder. He burrowed deeper into the covers to chase after it. To chase after that smile.

_Ding-dong!_

_Ding-dong!_

_Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong!_

Billy cracked an eye open, wincing at the excessive amount of sunlight he encountered. He could’ve sworn it had never been this bright in his room before and he vividly remembered that he hadn’t set his alarm the night before so what in the living fuck was that shrill ass noise? 

_Ding-dong-ding-dong!_

_Ding-dong-ding-dong!_

_Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong! Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong! Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong!_

_Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong!_

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Billy shouted, sitting straight up and yanking the covers back. Doorbell, it was a mother-fucking doorbell. 

He swore again, ready to kill whatever asshole was tapping on it like their life depended on him opening the damn door to save them from a horde of flesh eating zombies but there was a new _what the fuck_ on the tip of his tongue when he realized that the words he had just yelled had not come out in his own voice. _And_ he was back in that plaid wallpapered room again. Not his room, not his voice. Definitely not his mother-fucking doorbell.

_Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong!_

Panic set in for several reasons, but mostly because he nearly fell to the floor when his legs didn’t carry his weight as expected. He was somehow lighter than normal. Which, how in the fuck was he lighter!?

Billy didn’t bother to look down at his body, he knew he had clothes on of some sort and nothing else mattered but getting that noise to stop. He bolted out of the bedroom, determined to beat the doorbell into oblivion and maybe the maniac who kept jamming it with their finger.

But he didn’t know this house. His head whipped right, then left, looking for which way to go.

_Ding-dong!_

_Ding-dong!_

_Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong!_

Stairs, he saw stairs. Billy would’ve stomped down them if he had not been too busy racing down them. He was quicker in this body, not just lighter, but lighter on his feet. At the bottom of the stairs he saw a sofa, a fireplace, a kitchen off to the side, ah, and a fucking foyer with a front door. 

_Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong!_

Billy slid across the entry way tile in socked feet and fumbled with the deadbolt. “FUCK! Hold on!”

The dinging suddenly stopped, as if the crazy person on the other side had heard him. I mean, they had to have heard him, there was only a measly front door between them.

Billy finally got the door unlocked and threw it open, mouth twisted and ready to go off, but his stomach dropped out of his body when he saw _who_ was standing in front of him, their finger poised over the bell like they were about to press it again just to be a dick.

Billy was standing there. Not someone who just looked like him, it wasn’t a twin or a look-a-like…it was Billy himself, or someone in Billy’s body. And damn, whoever it was looked fucking mad.

*

Steve would’ve punched him in the face for taking so god damn long to open the door if it hadn’t been _his_ own face that was going to suffer the hit. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Billy asked, the words tumbling from Steve’s mouth.

Hearing his voice for the first time outside of his own head felt surreal, weird even. Fuck, did he really sound like that? I mean, it wasn’t bad, per se but like… Jesus. Talk about a trip. “Yeah, good morning to you too asshole,” Steve said, glaring.

“You’re in my body!” Billy blurted out, still standing in the doorway, mouth hanging open like an idiot. 

Steve tried not to think about how that was _his_ face that looked like an idiot and nodded. “And you’re in mine, good sleuthing skills there…amigo.” Steve sighed and rolled his eyes— _Billy’s eyes_ —whatever. It was too much to keep up with when they had much bigger problems.

“And who the fuck are you, exactly?”

Steve almost laughed, but chose to huff instead. “I’m honored that you took time out of your busy schedule to look in the mirror.” He couldn’t help but watch his lips twist into a sour expression and hoped it was Billy making his face look like that and not that Steve ran around with that god awful expression because no. Just no. “You’re the worst, you know that? It’s _Steve_. I’m _Steve_ and you’re in _my_ body while I’m stuck in _your_ skin tight jeans and ridiculous jean jacket when it’s winter in Indi-fucking-ana. Do you even own a fucking coat?”

“Harrington?” Billy asked and it was telling that he ignored Steve’s tantrum, because that had been gold and even Billy on a bad day would have spewed at least three come backs by now.

“No, Wonder,” Steve said and then groaned when Billy still didn’t react. “Yes, Harrington.”

Billy was quiet for a beat. “So I’ll call you Stevie then.” 

“What?” Steve asked, how in the world was _this_ the conversation they were having right now? Billy’s mind clearly hadn’t caught up to the gravity of the situation yet and was idling on auto-pilot while it recovered from shock. Steve knew because he’d gone through the same thing an hour earlier when he’d woken up in Billy Hargrove’s bedroom.

“It’s _Stevie_ Wonder. Not Steve Wonder, god you’re a dumb ass,” Billy said, _finally_ reacting, which thank god. Steve knew how to deal with their bickering. But still, he’d been expecting the reaction to be a little more related to the fact that they were staring at themselves in each other’s bodies and not the typical basketball smackdown they usually engaged in.

“Just shut up and let me into my own damn house,” Steve said, brushing by Billy and taking note that his hair looked pretty good all bed-ridden like that. His own hair that is. Billy’s real hair looked like a mess because Steve could’ve cared the fuck less about it as he got dressed this morning in the tightest ass jeans he’d ever slithered into. And slither he had. 

Steve grabbed his arm after shutting and locking the door and pulled him into the downstairs half-bathroom, which his mom lovingly referred to as the _guest powder room_ to keep him from using her imported hand towels. 

Flicking on the light, Steve manhandled Billy to stand in front of the mirror, showing him his new reflection. It barely registered how easy it was to maneuver him, but he noted that Billy’s body felt more solid while Steve’s seemed more easily malleable.

They stood there—Steve in Billy’s body, half behind Billy in Steve’s body—glancing back and forth, staring and taking in the sight. Jesus Christ if this wasn’t the most fucked up thing that had ever happened to him.

“God, am I really that fucking hot?” Billy said, licking his lips— _Steve’s lips_ —in the same way he always did in his own damn body. It didn’t look quite as cool on Steve’s face.

“Really? _That’s_ the first thing you’re going to say? That you’re hot?” Steve shoved his shoulders a little as he let him go.

Their eyes met in the mirror. Billy shrugged. “You have a decent dick.”

Steve felt his entire body flush, but it felt much warmer to feel self-conscious and put on the spot in Billy’s body than his own. The guy was like a furnace. No wonder he didn’t own a coat.

“You didn’t bother to look in a mirror but took the time to look at my dick? Says a lot about you, Hargrove.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t looking for it, princess.” Billy laughed and Steve heard his own laugh for the first time. He liked it. It sounded…nice. Easy on the ears, actually, and not awful like the screeching hyena he’d thought it sounded like his entire life. “I fucking had it in my hand the last time this happened, because _you_ were jacking off. Shit, I thought that was just a dream.”

Steve’s heart started pounding. Damn it, so Billy _had_ noticed the jerking off thing before.

“Harrington, that’s it, we’re probably just dreaming. Or…I’m dreaming and you’re just some fucked up, really hot figment of my subconscious imagination.”

“Uh, hate to break it to you, _amigo_ , but this—” Steve waggled his finger between them “—is not a dream.” 

“Jesus, stop saying _amigo_. You say it wrong,” Billy said. “If this is a dream, I’m just going to wake up now. Right? When you realize you’re in a dream, you wake up.”

Steve pinched Billy’s bare arm, _his own damn arm,_ but not hard enough to leave a bruise, and said it again, “This is not a dream!”

Billy paled. Well, Steve’s face paled. Seeing his own face like that confused Steve. He hadn’t had the same reaction Billy had to seeing his own body, he hadn’t gushed about how fucking hot he really is and just taken it all in stride, but at least he hadn’t thought it was a dream and jumped on the denial train.

While Billy grappled with the reality of the situation, Steve took a good long look at himself. He looked…well, he looked less masculine than he thought he did. Not feminine, no, but younger than he thought, skinnier than he thought. No wonder Joyce was always suggesting he have seconds when he was over for dinner. He was attractive enough, but not in the way he’d always believed. He didn’t know quite how to feel about that either.

“Shit, did you drink a gallon of water before bed? I gotta piss,” Billy said, wincing a little. 

“It was a few beers and yeah, okay, just let me get out of here…” Steve went to leave the tiny bathroom when Billy stopped him, hand on his forearm.

“It’s your body, you can stay if you want. Make sure I don’t mishandle the goods,” Billy said, waggling his eyebrows but again, no, just no. Not a good look on Steve.

For a second, Steve thought Billy was being nice, altruistic even, but then it dawned on him. Billy was not going to let _his own_ body out of his sight when Steve would have to piss, and he wasn’t going to let _his goods_ be mishandled either. Little did he know that Steve had already relieved him once that morning and had plenty to say about it.

“Whatever then, do your thing,” Steve said, deciding to stay. He turned to look in the mirror again, to marvel at his new tanned skin and magnetic blue eyes, while Billy turned his back to him and faced the toilet.

Steve fingered the blond hair on his head. It felt soft, much like Steve’s own hair before he sprayed it. He really should have combed it or something. But it didn’t look that bad, and with a face like Billy’s, he could have a nest on his head and still look good. Billy hadn’t yelled at him for not taking care of it yet so maybe he hadn’t noticed. 

Hearing him pee didn’t bother Steve, he heard guys pee all the time at neighboring urinals, you just learned to look at the wall and ignore it, but _knowing_ that Billy was using his dick to do so, well now that was something else altogether. Something Steve didn’t feel like contemplating at the moment, not when he had Billy’s thick eyelashes and flawless skin staring back at him. How was this guy so good looking _and_ such an asshole?

The stream stopped, indicating Billy had finished.

“Christ, your dick is so sensitive. How do you get anything done with this thing?” Billy said from over his shoulder and Steve whipped around, worried that something was wrong.

“What? Show me.” Steve crowded him from behind, trying to look over his arm.

Billy raised his shoulder to block Steve’s view. “Just...give me a minute, it’s like…turned on.”

Steve blinked. “From peeing?” 

“Hell if I know. It’s _your_ fucking dick.” Billy flushed the toilet, his head still tilted down and his shoulder keeping Steve at bay.

“Okay, well, my dick has never gotten turned on from peeing before so…must be you all you man,” Steve said. He stepped back to give him some space. “What do you…what do you think caused it?”

Billy snorted and turned around. “I don’t know, _Steve_ , it’s not like I’ve ever been in another guy’s body when his dick got all excited from pissing before so not exactly an expert here.”

Steve swallowed hard when he saw his dick protruding out between them, stiff and interested. “Jesus, did you fucking stroke it or something?”

“Not yet, but it seems to think we’re moving in that direction.”

Steve couldn’t take his eyes off his own dick. Seeing it from another person’s point of view was different than just looking down at it. And damn, he really was _hung_. 

Tommy and some of the other guys had joked over the years that he must be packing after seeing him in wet swim shorts and naked in the locker rooms (though he was always soft for locker room showers) but he hadn’t really thought they were serious, but damn, he _was_ packing after all. 

It suddenly put Nancy’s wide eyes into perspective when she’d seen him hard for the first time and whispered about how big he was.

“Christ, is this how you feel when you get all hot and bothered?” Billy asked, licking his lower lip. 

Steve didn’t know what Billy was feeling, but he could feel the cock in his own jeans stir a bit. It felt mild, but it was definitely awake and paying attention now, assessing if the situation warranted its participation or not. And feeling Billy’s dick stir was quite the experience.

Billy moaned a little, his eyes fluttering shut. “Damn Harrington, your dick is so sensitive.” He gripped it near the base and just held it, as if to steady it or calm it down.

“Hey, hey…hands off. You want me fucking around with yours?” he said, because it sounded like something he _should_ say in this situation, but he didn’t necessarily want Billy to stop. Part of him wanted to see what he looked like jerking off. And another part of him wanted to watch Billy unravel in front of him, to finally see the new King in a more vulnerable state.

Billy dropped his hand and opened his eyes. “Okay princess, have at it then.”

“Uh…what?”

Billy’s personality pierced through Steve’s eyes, challenging him. “Your precious little dick is hard and since you won’t let me take care of it then by all means…please, take care of it yourself. I’ll wait.”

Steve actually laughed. “We both know it’s not little so…god am I really that big? Jesus, what are we even talking about?”

Billy looked down at it and smirked. “Wanna touch it? Feel how big it is in someone else’s hand.”

Steve eyed him carefully, unsure how he felt about the suggestion. It was his dick after all, he could probably get it off in less than a minute if he tried, but it wasn’t his hand, it was Billy’s hand. Neither of them seemed to be thinking straight, they kept getting distracted by their bodies instead of dealing with the fact that they were _in_ each other’s bodies and this wasn’t quite how Steve had imagined them crossing the line.

Because he _had imagined_ it. More than once. Yet never thought it’d be anything more than a fantasy. But even still, one erection was the least of their problems and Steve needed a moment to breathe and gather his thoughts. Seeing himself was a lot. Being in Billy’s body was _a lot_. The idea of mixing anything sexual into it, well that was just a complete fucking overload.

“You know what, I changed my mind. You can handle this one all on your own. I’ll be in the kitchen. You want coffee?” He moved to leave when Billy grabbed his forearm again. 

Their eyes met and something flashed between them. Something electric, something visceral. Something that shot butterflies into Steve’s stomach— _Billy’s stomach_. It was Steve’s awareness, but Billy’s body and he didn’t know what that meant, if anything.

“Don’t worry big boy, I’ll treat your pretty little princess right…” Billy said and Steve believed him. He did have Billy’s dick at his mercy after all. 

Steve nodded. “You better.”

Billy let him go and Steve stepped into the hallway. 

“And Harrington…”

Steve turned around, right outside the bathroom door. “Yeah?”

“Yes, I want some fucking coffee,” Billy said before banging the door shut in Steve’s face.


End file.
